Tag: story

At A Starbucks in O’Hare

Standing at the coffee & creamer counter, trying to get a napkin.

Woman: Sorry, did you need creamer? Am I in your way?

Me: No, just a napkin, thanks.

W: You don't put anything in your coffee?

M: Nope.

W: Typical Chicagoan.

M: Umm.. no, I just landed here to catch another flight. I'm not from Chicago.

W: Well, still. Seems to be a Chicago thing, drinking your coffee black.

M: I just... like.. coffee to be coffee.

W: But it's still weird.

M: .... Ok. Have a nice day then.

Lady, I'm sure there are a thousand other reasons I can give you to consider me weird. The way I drink my coffee is way, WAY low on that list.

The Trouble With Travels

Sometimes funny stories come out of difficult situations. My life at the time seemed to be full of such stories, especially in February and March when the shifting weather tended to make travel difficult at best.

This one was from February 7, 2008. The story doesn't begin and end with just flight difficulties though, no sir. Every aspect of a trip such as this becomes a situation where laughing at it is often the only thing you can do...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It’s 5:17PM.

My flight was supposed to have taken off thirty minutes ago. I’m sitting in the terminal near gate 15 waiting. The plane coming in is coming from Chicago, where it is snowing today.

The snow-fall has all planes grounded. My plane hasn’t even taken off yet.

Chicago can’t handle snow. You would think by now they would be able to. They’ve had airports for a few years now; decades even. They’re no stranger to snow. Why does the snow cause such chaos there?

It’s 5:21PM.

An announcement goes over the public address system in the Buffalo Airport:

“The airport is closing due to the freezing rain creating icy conditions on the runways. No flights will be able to take off and no flights will be allowed to land.”

I just shake my head. It started as one of those days. It’s just going to get worse from here.

I step up to the counter at the gate and ask the agent if the flight has left Midway yet.

“No,” she replies, “Chicago can’t get anything in or out either. We’re seeing what we can do, we have some other planes coming in, but now they’re being diverted because of the ice. The planes can’t brake properly out there, it’s too dangerous. They’ll update us in about an hour as to where it stands.”

I thank her, and walk back to my seat.

I make my phone calls.

Here is where I am. Here is where it stands. Can I make it to San Diego for the 7AM meeting tomorrow? I don’t know yet…

This is just a connection flight – Buffalo to Phoenix. I know if I can at least get off the ground here and get to Phoenix I can make it by tomorrow morning.

It’s 5:45PM.

I’m speaking with an airline attendant that just sat next to me.

“I’m supposed to be flying the Baltimore-Nashville-Vegas route, but my plane just got diverted to Cleveland. But they said it’s supposed to be taking back off to come here shortly…”

Vegas? Hmmm… I can do Vegas.

No, not to drink and gamble, but I know I can get a flight to San Diego from there in the morning. It’s an option.

It’s 6:15PM. No word yet on if they’re opening the airport back up to incoming flights, but some airlines are starting to board their planes to get them ready.

My plane still hasn’t left Chicago. One passenger said he was told it was going to Chicago and got diverted to Indianapolis. It still has to drop passengers off in Chicago.

It’s not looking good.

It’s 6:30PM, the posted delayed time for my flight to be taking off at. They have since removed all expected times. They have cancelled the flight to Midway.

I begin to call and cancel my reservations. I know if I do get out tonight, at this point making my connection would be impossible.

I step back up to the gate desk to ask what their plan is. Before I even get a chance to, a flight from Baltimore comes into the gate. It was a different flight coming in from Midway that was diverted. It was supposed to go back to Midway, but they had already cancelled that flight.

The gate agents scramble. Furiously they make phone calls. They turn this plane into my plane. They announce they will get it off the ground at 7:10.

They start reviewing connections in Phoenix.

“Passengers going to San Diego – they’re going to hold that flight at the gate for you. You WILL make your connection.”

I called bullshit.

No way they can take a two and a half hour delay and make this connection happen. They will be holding that flight for a half hour, assuming no further delays.

What are the odds?

It’s 7:10. We’re still standing in line waiting to board the plane.

It’s 7:30. No one has moved.

The gate agent announces this is an older plane and used only running between Chicago and Buffalo. It doesn’t have the fuel capacity to make it to Phoenix so we will be stopping in Tulsa to refuel.

So there’s another 30 minutes of travel time.

And it’s now 7:45.

We start boarding. I know I’m not going to make my flight to San Diego, but they are still insisting I will.

I call Southwest customer service to get their take on it as we start making our way down the jetway.

No one has been allowed onto the plane yet. They’re making everyone stand on the jetway, waiting, while the pilot stands in front of us on his cell phone. Now what?

They have another plane coming in from Orlando that is bigger and can make the cross country flight. He wants to switch planes. The flight from Orlando will be here in 20 minutes. At this point, that time difference and him holding us up to check… it’s a wash. Stop for fuel dude.

It’s 8:00. I’m still holding for customer service, sitting in my seat on the plane waiting for everyone to load on.

I get an agent on the phone finally and she confirms they are holding the flight to San Diego for connections from my flight. I start calling back on my reservations to un-cancel them.

But now it’s 8:15. We’re still sitting at the gate. They’re getting the last passengers settled. It’s 8:30, the de-icers are still working on the plane.

It’s around 8:45. We’re finally taking off. Two and a half hours to Tulsa, then two and a half hours to Phoenix. I’m still thinking, with confidence, there is no way I’m getting that flight to San Diego….

-------------===========--------------

The flight is uneventful and we make a successful landing in Tulsa around 10:20PM. Only 25 minutes before the connecting flight to San Diego is scheduled to depart. We’ll be on the ground for at least 20 minutes for fuel…

There was a woman on the flight who apparently got so ill she had to exit in Tulsa. She walked out of the plane on her own, and didn’t look to be in bad shape. I figured if someone was ill enough to want to stay in Tulsa when they had no plans to be there, a gurney would be required.

I call Southwest customer service again to reschedule my flight to the next morning. They confirm that tonight’s flight to San Diego will be released on time, not waiting for any connecting passengers… I contemplate for a moment if they were lying before, are really that bad at math, or just unbelievably overly optimistic.

I call the hotel to re-cancel my room – they were understanding and cooperative. Incredibly so. Such a relief when the night is destined to be so long. I reschedule my rental, make a couple more “this is what is going on” calls, and then it’s time to take off again.

We land in Phoenix shortly after midnight. As I step into the jetway, the night air feels surprisingly cold. Warmer than it was in Buffalo, but it send a chill through me. The kind of chill that just makes your body scream, “Give me a bed and some heavy blankets and let me hibernate until spring.”

Right now, hibernation would be a wonderful thing.

In the terminal, everyone who had exited the plane was swarming the airline agents at the nearest gate podium. I already made my ticket change over the phone, all I need is a boarding pass printed so I don’t have to check-in in the morning. I find a gate agent further away where no one is swarming.

People soon follow my lead.

I explain my situation to the woman at the desk. Another passenger steps near me and a different agent helps him.

The airline is going to reschedule everyone, and give a hotel voucher for the night. Or, what is left of it. I look at my phone, it is now almost 12:30AM. My next flight is at 6:00AM. I consider how long it will take to sort all this, get a hotel shuttle, get to the hotel fighting a crowd of all the other passengers who will no doubt need the same shuttle and check-in at the same hotel…

It became worse than I expected.

The other gate agent processed the other passenger’s ticket change and hotel voucher within minutes. Mine was still looking at her terminal screen with a furrowed brow and clacking at the keyboard while making a lot of “hmmm” sounds.

Apparently, being proactive with Southwest is confusing. The fact that I called in my own ticket change and had it all set to go created an unsolvable puzzle for her.

The other agent processed another passenger.

It’s now 12:40.

The other agent has another passenger almost done, she finally turns to ask what to do. The other agent tells her exactly what keystrokes to make… boarding passes spit out of the printer.

Yes, sometimes it is ok to say, “Wait… I’m not sure what needs to be done. Can you help me?”

I get my hotel voucher and head down through the airport to go find the hotel shuttle.

I’m beat. I didn’t sleep on the flights. I had an aisle seat, and the passenger at the window had to pee no less than six times in the 5 hours of flying. I’m exhausted; ready to sleep right where I am.

I find the courtesy phones to call the hotel shuttle. The hotel says it just left and will be there in 20 minutes. I think, how far away is this hotel?

It’s now 12:55. If I’m not in a bed in 10 minutes I’m going to kill someone.

I step out to the curbside pickup area. There are at least 25 other people waiting for the hotel shuttle.

25 people in one van?

Not likely.

I stand and wait for a bit, and ask some other passengers standing there if they want to split a cab. No takers. So I wander off to the far side of the terminal to go get a cab.

There is an attendant at the taxi station. I step up to him and he mumbles something completely unintelligible at me.

“Excuse me?” I ask, hoping he can repeat it in English.

“(something unintelligible)… a cab?”

“Yes,” I respond, “I need a cab.”

“Where are you going?” was my best interpretation of what he asked next.

“Clarion hotel.” I responded. He nods at me like I just told him I was going to the funky shaped moon of Saturn that looks like the Death Star.

He picks up his two-way radio and calls for a cab.

A cab pulls up on the other side of the stop. The driver calls out, “You need cab?”

I look at the attendant. He is shaking his head at me.

“Is he not a cab?”

He shakes his head. “Not airport cab!”

“But is he a cab?”

“Not airport cab!”

“Will he take me where I want to go?”

“Yes, but not airport cab!”

“What is the difference to me?”

“Him not airport cab!”

So I got in the cab. The driver and the attendant started cursing at each other in some other language. I think I heard a few F-Bombs thrown, but I’m a little rusty on my Urdu.

The cab driver asks me where I’m going.

“Clarion Hotel, please.”

“Clariton?”

“No, Clarion.”

“(something unintelligible) ..Clariton, right?”

“No, CLARE-EE-ON.”

“You spell….”

“C-L-A-R-I-O-N.”

“Oh… where is that?”

“How the hell should I know? I just landed here!”

I open a browser on my cell phone as he dials his to ask his boss where the hotel is. Meanwhile he drives 2 laps around the airport instead of exiting and going… somewhere. Or sitting still so the meter doesn’t rack up as much mileage.

Love my phone. I actually got point-to-point driving directions for him. I don’t think I should have paid a thing for that cab ride – especially since once we arrived at the hotel, a shuttle was unloading passengers that I had been standing with.

*note to the disaffected youth: If you’re really lost on the path of life and think all is meaningless, do me a favor and consider being a cabbie for a career. This country is seriously lacking English speaking cab drivers. You can then write out receipts like “Fair 3350 febury 7 08 ur my fav pasanger lol!!!1!!*

There were about eleven people standing in line at the front desk waiting to check in for a room, and one haggard, sweaty, obese guy trying to check all of them in.

It’s 1:20AM.

It’s finally my turn. I get my room card, set my wakeup call for 4:30AM and wander to my room.

I’m beat.

I settle in briefly. Get my clothes ready for the next day, and take a quick shower.

I look at the clock.

It’s 2:02AM.

I collapse into bed for the most restless two-hours of sleep in my life…

Rain Dots

Which are the right lessons to know? Which work the best for me?

I just don’t know.

There are things I do know.

When something wonderful comes into your life, embrace it.

Patience means everything, especially when hearts are involved.

The lives we touch will never be the same – we influence everything around us.

Love can be boundless. Why try and restrict it?

Just some thoughts from today… my plane will be landing shortly… taking me home again.

Home.

It will never be the same…

Thoughts of Australia, Part 2

The second part of my stories of Australia. This one, originally written on my way home from that tripe, December 10, 2007.

You can read part one here.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It’s Saturday.

I’ve been in Australia for nearly a week and the time has flown by.

All the work is done. Time for a little relaxation. My shoes are covered in dust from walking the grounds of the Melbourne Zoo today. My head and neck is sunburned from the blazing, late-spring, equatorial sun. It got hot the last couple days. Considerably hotter than the useless weather forecast had claimed it would last week when I checked.

The trip, from a business perspective has been successful. I managed to defuse customer concerns, get an unmanageable local contractor managed, train dozens of people on technologies they have no prior experience with, and get yet another client up and running with products that will help them offer their patients better, safer health care.

Not bad for essentially three days of work.

And even more importantly I managed to leave myself some downtime… time to explore. Time to look around a city and a country that I am visiting for the first time.

…I like it here too.

Funny speak and pronunciations aside, I think they all dealt with my American ways and took things in stride.

Yes, sorry to say, my fellow Americans, but we are the odd-man out in the world. We do things different, but not necessarily better. The metric system does make more sense. Driving on the left or right… eh, I don’t know if either way has a significant advantage.

And it’s nice to walk through an airport to get to a domestic flight without having to undress and show your ID forty-five times.

Nevertheless, I do miss home. As the trip winds down I think more and more about what I will be returning home to in just two days. My kids, resuming business, working out things that I had begun working on before I left… getting on with life.

Getting on with life in a new way… a different way. A way I’ve never experienced before. Change can be scary… but it can also be so liberating. When you realize you can let go of the past and move forward with life. When you realize taking a risk doesn’t have to mean giving up everything you know and love… and everything you’ve worked to achieve.

When you realize, you can be in charge of your own happiness… you’ve found a certain freedom not many people allow themselves to have.

I have found it.

There were only two things on my mind as I wandered the zoo this morning; my kids, and getting really nice pictures for… someone that it would mean something to.

I explored. I observed animals I’ve never seen up close.

Yes, the platypus is the most bizarre thing you ever wanted to see…

I got really nice pictures of a type of porcupine native to the Australian continent. And Asian otters. Chirping, playful little creatures.

I took over 400 pictures. I love this new camera!

As the afternoon wore on, I felt the heat of the sun starting to penetrate. My head burned on the surface and began to throb on the inside. I knew it was time to go.

I quickly learned the Tram system, so taking the Tram to and from the zoo was easy and relaxing. I could have walked it. It would have been about four miles, but with time at a premium and my feet sore from the previous days of walking, the Tram was the way to go.

I returned to my hotel and picked up my bags, which they so graciously held for me after checkout. A quick cab ride to the airport and, literally, only about 10 minute through booking and security.

No huge lines. No Nazi’esque security measures. I didn’t even need to take off my shoes or show ID beyond ticketing.

Talk about foreign.

Sitting at the gate waiting on a flight to Sydney now – I get to spend tomorrow there before starting home early on Monday. The gate area is quiet. The airport, not as bustling as the airports in larger US cities. They have an arcade game at the gate – ironically named, “Daytona USA.”

Reaching up to rub my aching head, I feel the heat radiating off of it. That is going to sting tomorrow in the shower.

I’m debating calling David in Sydney to ask him to recommend a restaurant for tonight after I arrive. Maybe I’ll call before I board the plane.

I was asked if I’ve tried any Australian delicacies. I don’t know if there are any uniquely Australian dishes – with the exception of vegemite, which David described as tasting like salty dog poop. I can take a pass on that.

Yes, I realize I might actually like it… but, nah. With the influence of many Italian, Greek and Asian immigrants to Melbourne there was plenty of good food to choose from.
Thursday day night I had a linguine marinara with assorted seafood. I figured it would be pasta in a tomato sauce with a few scallops and shrimp tossed in… I was shocked when the plate was placed before me and it was a heaping mound of prawns, shrimp, scallops, mussels and even half of a crab tossed over pasta.

Wow.

Now that’s the way I like to cook!

The entire week has been very interesting.

I arrived to the hospital I had to work at on Monday, earlier in the afternoon than I expected. David was working on trying to solve network issues with the hospital IT staff and the vendor team was waiting for me to help guide them through the last stages of the project. I sat with David in the IT department as we discussed the network settings and security implications with the IT team. After sorting out the variables, we headed to the BioMed department to test devices. None of them would connect on the network. IT was positive all the settings were correct, but they couldn’t activate the VLAN across all of the access points.

We were at a standstill. It was 4:00PM. We couldn’t go forward with configuring devices if they couldn’t make it work… so, we went out and drank.

We’re IT guys. When the going gets tough, the liquor starts flowing.

Helping matters was the fact I was demanding a hotel room and a shower after over 28 hours of travel. David and I walked to the hotel. From the hospital to the hotel was about a mile and a half walk (or, a couple kilometers). My first real look at the area was beautiful – the first part of our walk was through a beautiful park. People were playing and resting on blankets under tress. The foliage was magnificent and the tree-lined lanes looked like something straight from a painting.

Across the park was the road to home – Flinders Street. Parts under construction, a little dusty and a main thoroughfare; busy, crowded and loud. About halfway down was this amazing yellow and red building, the Flinders Street Station. It’s a main depot for all Trams, Trains and busses in Melbourne.

The street is lined with shops and cafes. The smell of fresh coffee and baking flowed from every other doorway. I was getting hungry. Dinner was still hours away.

We got to the hotel. David told me to meet him at the bar in an hour. I spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince the desk staff that my reservation really was for five days, and not just one. They figured it out, but didn’t have a room they could give for five days.

Wonderful start. But, they sorted it and I was soon in my room, over looking the Yarra River and attempting to settle in a bit before showering and heading back out for the evening.

I met David downstairs – he was already seated and had beers on the table in front of him. I had little choice but to drink, but it was like I was going to put up a fight at this point? We only had a few minutes anyway – the restaurant the vendor team chose was about a 20 minute cab ride from the hotel, so we needed to down drinks and get rolling.

David and I discussed everything that had taken place up to that point with the project. The pitfalls and issues – mainly due to the fact it was the first such installation in Australia, and the time and distance between contacting teams in America during business hours made getting the information they needed problematic.

I promised him we’d get it all solved. He assured me of his confidence in that.

We left for dinner.

Two Fat Indians restaurant wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I’ve never had Indian food before, but it was good. They also had a very nice wine list, which made it completely tolerable even if the food was mediocre.

One thing I was quickly learning though, in Australia, good service means you get something… at some time… perhaps even what you wanted.

I asked for water at least six times during the meal…

The teams sat around the restaurant, having coffee or hot chocolates, discussing everything from working on the next sales in Asia-Pacific, to asking me what they call this or that in America. Some of them have been to America, mostly for business events and generally just to New York City. New York City is not America… it should be its own country, if not its own state. And it’s a horrible representation of what the majority of America is like.

And, all of them… absolutely all of them, couldn’t understand why or how Bush got elected…. Not once, but twice!

One of the team members from the pharmacy team, Melissa, gave us a ride back to the hotel. She and I discussed the similarities in growing up in an Italian immigrant household, regardless if it was in New York or Victoria. And we agreed home-made Italian is the best Italian food!

Back at the hotel, the night was brief. David and I stopped at the bar for a double Bailey’s as a night cap and then we went to our respective rooms to rest from a long day. I checked email, returned messages, checked in with my friends online… I took some night pictures of Melbourne, and retired to bed.

I woke up at 5AM, wide awake and ready to go. David and I had agreed to meet for breakfast at 8AM, so I had time to kill. It’s afternoon on the east coast then, so it was a good time to catch up with friends and family.

Breakfast was decent, but not worth the $22 a plate the hotel demanded for it. David was running late, so I sat and waited for him. Four cups of coffee later, he was finally ready to take the walk back to the hospital…

Sitting here trying to recall my first full day, a grandmother just let her granddaughter loose in the concourse to go run to her mom. As her mom walked towards them, the toddler threw out her arms and yelled “MAMA!” and ran towards her mother just as fast as her little legs would take her. An adorable scene, but as cute as that sounds, just a meter before reaching her mom, she made an immediate left turn and ran in another direction!

Kids are great at that age, aren’t they?

The Australian culture is very fit. Much more so than America. Throughout Melbourne, people are jogging, riding bikes, walking fast… most younger people are very trim and the dreadfully morbesse person is very rare indeed.

That being said, in an ironic twist, they seem to be a lot less concerned with the negative effects of smoking. People smoke everywhere. I saw a woman power-walking through the park; a bottle of water in one hand, a cigarette burning between her fingers in the other. Although they’re very strict about smoking allowances in public places – no smoking indoors, no smoking on the sidewalk outside a building, you will still see people huddled into alley ways and delivery doors to catch their smoke break. Sitting outside at a restaurant means sitting in a constant cloud, or stream, of cigarette smoke.

I just don’t understand it.

Tuesday flew by as we had more than a days worth of work to do in order to catch up from Monday. We put in a long day and at the end, David flew home to Sydney – pre-arranged, figuring once the bulk of the work was done, I could handle the rest.

It got to be about 7:00PM by the time I began my walk back to the hotel. I took my camera with me and took pictures as I went through the park and up and down Flinders. A small Sushi take-out caught my eye, so I stopped and got some to take back to the hotel. The travel and lack of sleep the night before was getting to me. I ate my sushi, with full intentions of heading back out to see sights, but before I knew it was getting dark outside and the bed was beckoning me to join its downy sheets and marshmallowy pillows.

I woke up the next morning at 5:30AM. Getting better.

I took my time walking back to the hospital in the morning, knowing I had a full day ahead of me again. Training all the important people and cleaning up work that needed to be done, leftover from the day before. I felt good. Very good. I was all smiles and greeted everyone with a calm and happy greeting. Things felt different – I felt rested and ready to go. I think the reality that I was literally a half of a world away from home for the first time in my life had finally settled in.

I had the help of the local team, unboxing and reboxing devices as we went. The day flew by. Everyone seemed a lot more relaxed today. Perhaps it’s just my demeanor – people sense control and confidence when I do a job. Even if things aren’t going as planned. It is one of my finer points, I will admit.

My chemistry teacher pointed it out to me in high school, “You’re very relaxed and laid back. People will always feel relaxed around you and if you exude confidence, they will find confidence with you. But,” he warned, “if you don’t exude confidence, you’ll come across as apathetic and then no one will believe in you.”

He was right. I didn’t know what he meant at the time. I didn’t have confidence then and he knew it, hence his comments. But as I’ve grown into my adult life and career I’ve learned how important confidence becomes – especially when trying to lead. This job demands a leader. My life demands I lead, not follow. As my career has moved along, I’ve developed that confidence and I know I can lead and get others to follow.

Even if I have no confidence in myself otherwise.

Work finished up – I invited the vendor team to dinner, since they treated on Monday, I wanted to treat them once this week – to thank them for the opportunity and their hospitality. They all declined, which left me on my own for another evening.

No worries. I have feet and a camera.

I walked along the Yarra River, in front of the Crown Casino and Southbank Promenade. Taking pictures of the sun setting over the river, the people I saw, the buildings and bridges and scenery. I felt productive. Unfortunately none of the restaurants of the area were really catching my eye. I settled on Il Posto Primo, because it actually had things on the menu that didn’t make me scratch my head in wonder… and I’m a pretty daring person when it comes to eats.

It got dark quickly, and the time for taking good photos was over, but I got in some good playtime experimenting with the night lights and shutter speeds… it would have been a lot better with a tripod though…

Sitting in Sydney, reflecting back on the trip now and debating what I want to do tonight. Last night in town. Do I head to the party district and cut loose or find something cultural and more sophisticated to do, such as sitting at the hotel bar trying out expensive drinks?

My time in Sydney this trip is much too short and it seems like a very cool town. My first night, David and I went into Chinatown for dinner. Looks like every other Chinatown in every other multicultural and cosmopolitan city I’ve been to. Good food, a little different atmosphere than the rest of the city, given the culture and people you’re surrounded by. We passed by several restaurants – the hostesses aggressively trying to attract you into their particular restaurant… “You look for good dinner? We have good food! Come in?” and the sort. Imagine that in a Chinese accent, and I don’t mean to be offensive, that is what they do. Similar to the way you get approached on the streets of Vegas to go into the nudie shows, except the expectation is much, much different.

After dinner we walked the city, then got a cab to Kings Crossing – the party (or, Red Light) district. People watching there was amazing. Seriously. Being sober and watching the drunk people… not that it’s a new experience but in a vastly different environment than I’m used to.

David commented, “If I knew all the rage with young women this summer was going to be to dress like a slut, I would have opened up a slutty dress shop six months ago…”

The next day was spent wandering the streets with Brian. A good guy, but heavy Australian accent and he tends to mumble and stutter a bit which makes communicating with him a little difficult.

We started with lunch at a pub – pizza and pots of beer. We went daring on the pizza. All this time he has lived here and never had kangaroo meat... so we got one pizza with kangaroo and one with emu. Both, very tasty, I have to say.

We walked the harbor bridge, which for tourists, really leads to nowhere. But walking across it gives you a good look at the harbor, the Opera House and the city. So we walked its length and then turned around and walked back. Then, to the Quay, where the harbor market was taking place. We stopped and had a coffee and talked about life mostly. The differences in attitudes between Americans and Australians when it comes to living and relationships, and doing the things that make your life happy and meaningful.

I like the Australian ideas better.

No pressure to get married. People can live together, then move on. People who do get married generally wait until their older – 30’s or later. Divorce is no big deal and people have a general understanding that if it’s just not working out, moving on is a reasonable option.

Evolution never ends. We have a lot to learn…

As the dark clouds thickened over the city, we continued our walk through the harbor and up to the Opera House. It was crowded, but the heat and humidity probably kept it from being as crowded as it could be on a Sunday.

It is a lovely building… very unique and a much different surface than I had imagined from pictures.

Out past the city to the south, lightning began to streak across the sky. The first few raindrops could be felt – big, cold drops which at first were somewhat shocking to the skin.

Brian and I began to head back towards the city from the harbor. He had enough of sight-seeing and wanted to get on with his day. As we walked, a little more briskly than the leisurely stroll to the harbor, the rain intensified. Thunder rolled through the distance and the wind changed from the strong ocean breeze we once enjoyed to a course, violent wind blowing from inland.

We made it to the parking ramp where Brian had left his car. I thanked him for his hospitality and we parted ways. My hotel was a few blocks further and the rain was really starting to come down. My first concern, of course, was for my camera. I kept it covered in my clothing; the second lens in my pocket banged against my leg with every step.

The city is very hilly. The harbor much lower than the level the hotel is on. I climbed George Street past the shops and restaurants. I made note of a particularly interesting looking Italian place by the pedestrian mall on Nurse Walk. I found the stairs that would lead me back up to the hotel entrance. Old, cobblestone stairs, patched with concrete – they were steep and slippery in the rain.

Once back in my room, I downloaded pictures from my camera, happy it had survived the rain. A few people were online, and I had a quick conversation with a friend before she retired for the evening… and my bed was calling. Although it was an off day without work to do, the heat, the walk, the climb… made it an exhausting day. A nap was in order…

When I awoke about an hour later the sun was shinning again. I showered, changed my clothes and headed back out to find dinner. I walked back down the hill to the mall and rediscovered that Italian place I had seen earlier. As is common, when eating alone, I got seated in the smallest table in the most remote corner and promptly forgotten by the staff. But as I sat and waited, I observed another gentleman who was also eating alone. Finishing his meal and drinking the last of the beer in his glass.

He looked to be in his late fifties. Shaved head, business attire… and seemed to be lost in thought. He took out his Blackberry and began fiddling with buttons. He put it away. He read the label on his beer bottle. He fidgeted with his napkin.

I watched him intently for a few minutes, but my thoughts revolved around myself. Do people observe me when I eat alone on the road? Do I look as lost in thought and looking for something to do… to occupy myself… to pass the time where if I were with someone there would be conversation? More to the point, will this be me still in twenty years?

And if it is… is that self-reliance and independence, or just plain pathetic?

My meal finally arrived just as the subject of my observations left. Bland, uninteresting soup. Bland uninteresting pasta dish. I expected, better. Flavor. Something.

I ordered a second glass of wine. Then a third. I should have ordered a bottle.

It was about this time that Sarah called me just to say hi. Hearing her voice illuminated my spirit - what a wonderful surprise! I walked away from my table to a quieter part of the mall so we could speak, albeit briefly. Always, too brief.

I returned to my table and sipped my wine, now, becoming lost in thought as well. The waiters began moving tables around on the patio to accommodate a group of people. The heavy marble top tables required two of them to move. The wrought iron legs still scrapping across the concrete patio blocks.

Three women were shown to the table combination, but they set up chairs for six, taking one from my table. The women were obviously having a fun night out. They spoke in loud voices with intermixed laughter. The one sitting closest to my table turned to me and apologized for their raucousness. I assured them it wasn’t a problem. The blonde at the furthest end of the table was looking at me and whispering to the third.

“Yes, let’s invite him over,” I heard her say, “he’s obviously alone.”

Her friend was more cautious, “But we don’t know him,” she said, “what if he’s crazy or something?”

“Oh, the more the merrier!” was her response.

So they invited me over. Their other friends joined. A man and a woman. They were on the phone calling their sixth friend. I ordered another glass of wine. Now why didn’t I just get a bottle?

I finished the glass… and ordered a bottle. I finished the bottle.

The entire party was a collective like the United Nations. Two from the UK, two from Germany, one from Denmark, one from Finland… all in Sydney to celebrate one of their birthdays.

Quite a party.

After they had dinner we all took a cab to a night club in the city. We drank more, we danced. I headed back to the hotel around midnight, knowing I was going to have to travel the next day and fight on helluva hangover.

But it made the night a lot more interesting than just sitting alone…

Thursday in Melbourne was a busy day of work. I went to the vendor’s local offices to train all of their sales and services teams on the technology that they are starting to offer their customers. The technical aspects of it, the procedural aspects of installing it and migrating the customers to it once it is installed. It was an all day training.

Nicole, the vendor rep for the area, picked me up from my hotel at 9AM and we went to their offices. The training went well for being a little off-the-cuff and all improvisation. Then it was back to the hospital to finish work and some training there. We wrapped up around six and as we left the hospital, she called her husband to let him know she wouldn’t be home for dinner.

“I’ll be out of town tomorrow, so you and I need to have dinner tonight.” She told me.

I didn’t argue.

We got in her car and she handed me a gift bag.

“I hope you like red.” She said with a smile.

“Love it! But you didn’t have to do that, really…”

“No, no. Without you this task would have been impossible for us, and you’ve come a long way to make it happen. Thank you.”

“Well, it was my pleasure…” and it really was. I do enjoy the work I do, and, when you get the chance to travel like I have… this one was indeed a rare opportunity.

She drove us out to St. Kilda Beach and we walked the pier. It extends out into the ocean quite a distance. In the middle, a kiosk and concession stand. At the very end, boat slips where hundreds of boats were docked. The wind blew strong off the ocean and I snapped picture after picture as we went along.

“Do you want me to take pictures of you… someplace?” Nicole asked.

“No, that’s ok,” I replied, “I know I was here and having me in the picture would just take away from it…”

She laughed.

As we walked the pier and snapped pictures at random, not even lifting the camera to see what it is I’m taking pictures of.

It’s digital, they can be deleted later, and sometimes you get some really neat shots just being random.

“Do you even know what you’re taking pictures of?” she asked.

“Not all the time. I like being random.”

“What do you like taking pictures off? Anything in particular?”

“Hmmm, not really,” I responded, “I tend to just take pictures of whatever catches my eye. Like, for example, you know how you see the Japanese tourists all taking turns taking pictures of each other standing in front of a monument or landmark?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I’d be taking a picture of the Japanese guys instead of the landmark, because that behavior and people are more interesting.”

She shook her head in a little bit of disbelief, but I think she already suspected I’m not ordinary.

We walked back up to the street and headed into the restaurant district of St. Kilda. She decided on The Street Café – and Italian restaurant, and according to her, an institution. One of those places you just have to go to. We ordered birra Pernonis, garlic bread and ate an incredible meal.

After dinner she took me back to my hotel and we said our good-nights. Odds are I wouldn’t see her again this trip, but she has to come to America for trainings in the near future, and she wants me in charge of all of their Asia-Pacific installations, so you never know what the future will hold.

Friday I had to myself. A few calls into the hospital to make sure everything was going smooth a few conversations with David and a couple with Nicole. Everything was running along according to plan.

I took the morning as a tour of the parks near the hospital. Fitzroy Gardens was especially beautiful. For me it was particularly relaxing to just wander, to take in the natural beauty of the area and take pictures of everything I saw.

A company picnic where men were playing football in slacks and dress shoes. The beautiful flowers, people sitting and reading, enjoying a morning or afternoon break. I spent over four hours just enjoying being outside in the sunshine and observing life.

The battery on my camera started getting low and I wanted to go to the zoo later. I walked back to my hotel to try and charge the battery. Fortunately the hotel has a 110 outlet set up for American electric razors in the bathroom; otherwise my picture taking might have been done days early.

After a rest and giving the battery time to charge, it was time to head back out. I stopped at the front desk and asked how to get to the zoo. The woman looked at me with disappointment.

“Awww, sir, the zoo closes at 5PM every day. It is about a 30 minute tram ride to get there…”

It was already 4PM… where had the day gone. But that’s ok, plan B. I can hit the zoo tomorrow before I fly to Sydney. I asked her how to get to the Botanical Gardens. She showed me a map. About a three mile walk, across the river and down St. Kilda Street. I headed out to enjoy more of the day.

I took pictures as I went. The walk was longer than I expected, but very interesting along the way. I took pictures in the gardens behind the rowing club houses and all along the river promenade and through the Temple park where their memorial to fallen soldiers stands.

I finally got to the botanical gardens – mostly out doors except for a few conservatories. I walked the entirety of the gardens. It was about 6:30PM. Now where to?

Well, I was on St. Kilda Street, so why not St. Kilda. I wasn’t sure how far it was, it’s not on the city map. I started walking. I made it about another two miles and then realized I’m still no where near it. So I hopped on a tram for the remainder of the trip.

The beach was extremely windy. Wind surfers filled the harbor, darting quickly in the strong wind. I walked the sandy beach from the pier to the end of the break, then headed back towards the restaurants to find dinner.

I wrapped up the night back in my hotel… relaxing and cooling off from the hot day. I wanted to get to bed early because I knew the next day would be busy, hectic, and even more tiring.

When I woke up Saturday morning and put my feet on the floor I was greeted by immediate pain radiating up through my legs. All that walking the day before in sandals had my feet completely cramped up. It took a bit of walking around, and standing in a pool of hot water in the shower to loosen everything up.

They had better cooperate though, I thought… otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to go to the zoo….

I’ve started the last bit of my trip now. It is Monday, December 10. I spent the morning at the vendor offices in Sydney drinking water trying to shake off the effects of Sunday night. I talked business with Brian for a while, then we tried explaining sports to each other… him telling me about Cricket, Australian Rules Football (which is played in some areas of Australia) and Rugby (which is played in the other areas). I tried teaching him more about American Football.

He dropped me off the airport for my 4:15PM flight to San Francisco… wonderful surprise, since the flight was completely sold out I got bumped up to business class. Ah, the benefits of having over 135 flights on Star Alliance partners this year!

In the airport I grabbed up souvenirs for the kids. I got Heathers’s shot glass that she requested. Sarah refused to let me buy her anything… but she did get otter pictures.

One of the best inventions ever – Noise Canceling Headphones. I sit on this 747, listening to music Sarah has sent me to travel with, lost to the world. I can’t hear voices; I can’t hear the hum of the engines. I can only hear blissful, beautiful music.

The kind of music you can wrap around yourself like a blanket…

But when I take the headphones off – the noise of the cabin is incredible! Even with most people sleeping.

Only ten hours to go until touchdown in San Francisco… I wonder how pissed off the guy sitting next to me would be if I tossed a glass of water in his face while he slept… hmmm….

Landed in San Francisco. I swear there isn’t a single English speaking person working in this airport. And isn’t it always comforting to be around the group of Asian travelers all wearing their surgical masks in public? Oh no, please, sit near me! I insist!

Have an hour to go before my connection to Charlotte. I didn’t sleep well on the flight from Sydney, so I’m tired and still feel the effects of Sunday night. It’s hot in this airport and my stomach is churning. Is it still recovering or maybe returning to reality. When I’m home I have constant headaches and heart burn. My stomach felt horrible the first two days in Australia, but after that, I relaxed and felt fine. Now, more than halfway home, it’s returning.

Feh.

This is the sucky part of travel – when you’re in the airport, once you have your ticket and are through security, you’re a prisoner. You can’t go outside. You can’t do anything but sit around. I need some fresh air right now… but I can’t go get any and in an hour, I’ll spend another six hours in a tube traveling at 500 miles per hour.

For that, I can’t wait to get home. Just to walk outside and breathe some fresh air.
I wonder if the bank has sent back the contract yet… I hate banks. Of course they haven’t. They’re sitting on it for no good reason. “They’re busy,” is what they’ve officially told my agent. Busy is no excuse. Banks don’t take “I’m busy” as an excuse if I’m late with a payment on something. The fuckers better get on it ASAP.

This is what I have to catch up with in life upon my return… and it’s still too gawddamm hot in this airport.

I’m now back in Charlotte. It seems like just yesterday I started my journey here, but it was ten days ago. But now it ends… one last flight and tomorrow, life will resume.

But, what exactly will tomorrow bring?

Life can be funny that way… you never know, so you have to take it a day at a time.

Steel Eyes, Tight Jaw…

...say it all.

Not all days of travel were pleasant. I often bit off a lot more than I could chew. Running a business, being a business, growing a business, exiting a marriage, buying a new house while leading a technical team on multi-million dollar health care system implementations... trying to find that balance was often difficult.

Often discouraging.

Often more than I could bear.

Originally published January 28, 2008

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I’ve been informed I need more journal entries about travel…

Unfortunately I don’t have much to say about it. Travel recently has been brief, alone and uneventful.

Last week’s travel was canceled. The week before it was a quick 36 hour trip to Colorado and Wyoming. I took some interesting pictures, but nothing too memorable.

This week I’m off to Tacoma again… I enjoyed my previous trips to that area, but not specifically for the area, the travel or the work to be done. But a two-day trip to the other side of the continent seems almost wasteful. I could spend an entire day – a full 24 hours – just going back and forth. Seems pretty pointless to only have 48 hours in between. But I have no choice. I have to cut my travel as close to work time as possible. There is a lot of work to be done, and even more back home. I hate to even leave at this time.

Closing on a house to move my company offices to. The transaction hasn’t gone nearly as smoothly as I would have hoped. There is a lot of work to be done there now that it is officially mine.

Yes, it became official as I flew a connecting flight to Philadelphia. So I will return home with a lot on my plate... as usual I suppose.

My business is at a juncture of growth. We’ve doubled staff since November. Ok, so that’s only adding on two people, but growth has to start somewhere and it’s never easy to take those steps. I’m needed there. But still, I need to keep working too. My efforts don’t only go towards managing and running the company, but also to bring in revenue and keeping up a positive cash flow.

On a flight to Seattle, and endlessly amazed by the ignorant and inconsiderate actions of people. Not only that, but the consistent stupidity and almost complete apathy by the airline personnel to do anything but “enforce the rules.”

I won’t go into detail. I’m sure anyone who has flown in recent years knows this all too well.

I pack light to avoid complications; especially for a quick two-day trip such as this. The less I carry, the happier and better off I am. But my laptop and other equipment I need to carry is a necessity – just as my camera has become a necessity these days as well. Nothing is getting “checked” when this is all I carry.

I’m going to land in Seattle, check into my hotel and decide what it is I need to do for tomorrow. The job I’m being sent to do seem as if it’s destined to be a disaster. I’m usually pretty confident I can get a job done and make things work out, but on this one, I’m not confident at all. The new software wasn’t designed with the model this hospital wants in mind. Trying to make it do what they want it to could be a lot more than the vendor has bargained for.

But of course, they’re counting on me to make it work.

So all eyes are on me.

Yay…

FEH.

So two weeks ago the vendor terminated Etch’s contract. That is sad, sad news for me. Etch is a good friend, a great guy to work and hang out with… and he worked hard and did a great job for our team. I’m going to miss him. Doing jobs with the team but without him just won’t be the same.

This trip just seems sad. Again, I’m looking more towards what I left behind than what I can look forward to.

I know looking forward, at least the next two days… all I see is disappointment.

I’m still 37,000 feet in the air… and I’m already looking forward to just going home.

A Disturbance in the Force, You Say?

I thought I found this original screen play for Star Wars at garage sale. Then I read it...

Luke: "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

Obig-One: "I felt a great disturbance in the force... as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened."

(Enter stage left - Hand Solo zipping up his pants)

(Enter stage left - Princess Laidya, wiping the corners of her mouth)

Ahhh yes... it was actually Star Whores...

You Say Hope

...I say, that's where I'm going.

Another tale from a trip better left unmentioned. But here I am talking about it anyway. Originally from August 9, 2007

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I arrived at the airport yesterday heading to Philadelphia. A typical occurrence these days – except this time, no connecting flight. Philly was my destination.

I booked at the kiosk, it said my flight was running on-time. I was skeptical, of course. A flight to Philly that runs on-time happens about as often as a Congressman says, “No thanks – I don’t need your campaign contribution.”

But, skeptical as I might have been, I had hope. No one seemed to indicate anything different. I made my way through a light security line and heard in the distance an announcement for a flight, to Philadelphia, in final boarding.

Odd, since the last flight should have left two hours ago, and my flight doesn’t leave for another 45 minutes.

But as I rounded to corner into the left side of the terminal, sure enough, there’s a flight bound for Philly still boarding at Gate 6.

I approached the gate agent and had to ask, “Which flight is this?”

“Flight to Philly that was supposed to leave at 5:30.”

“And why is it still here?”

“Everything in Philly is on a two-hour delay.”

Just as I figured when I checked in. Wouldn’t it be nice if the bastards actually updated flight statuses when there was a TWO HOUR delay?

“Can I get on this one instead of the 7:40?”

“Sure, we have seats because of all the other folks that had to re-ticket.”

Lucky me. Once in a while, things to work out.

I had a great day up to that point. It was nice I didn’t have to sit at the airport for two extra hours.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Today hasn’t been nearly as good as yesterday was. Perhaps that will change tonight when I meet a couple more on-line friends that I’ve been looking forward to meeting. Meanwhile though, I work and try to distract myself from thinking about you too much…

The job here in Philly has gone as expected so far. No major hang-ups despite this customer has not really put too much attention into this project. We have extra services to work on. No big deal. Just means some longer days here.

But as I sit around these offices, I’m reminded of a time when I too worked in an “office.” Not my home office where I spend time alone for the most part. Not on the road which usually includes long days of solitary work, and nights alone (usually) in hotel rooms. But an actual office.

Daily commute.

Working with the same people, directly, every day.

All the good and bad that goes with those environmental dynamics.

The interoffice politics, back-stabbing, flirting, affairs…

….the daily drama of it all.

At times I miss that. But here, in this community hospital, I’m reminded that for the most part I don’t miss it a bit.

Hearing the conversations in the cubicles. Who did what… who said what about who… who is doing what to who… why a certain job isn’t this person’s responsibility and who is to blame for the latest faux-paus.

Is faux-paus French for, “Fucked it up?”

It seems even a bit more catty here. In a community hospital, dedicated to serving the immediate community which, where I am, is for the most part impoverished. Explained to me by the local staff – the hospital is always in financial straits. The client base generally can’t afford the care they receive here. They try to attract the brightest and the best doctors, nurses and other staff, but can’t afford to compensate well enough to attract the staff they desire.

And you know damn well it won’t attract clientèle from outside of the inner city. Who would dare to lower themselves to be treated here if they can afford to go somewhere else? Somewhere they perceive as better?

At least they’ve finally come up with the money to invest in this product – something that can really help improve the care they give. It’s a step I know they’ve wanted to take for a number of years – I’m glad I can be here to help them get it in place.

The people I’m working with are very pleasant. I was warned they can be abrasive and unfriendly but I haven’t found that to be the case at all.

Funny how that seems to work in most cases… the people I’m warned are not friendly tend to warm right up to me. I’m told, “Oh, but you’re in IT – you’re used to dealing with unfriendly people, aren’t you?” That’s a perception thing. Not sure why, but I have my suspicions.
Usually though, it’s not the IT people who create the most interpersonal conflict. They tend to be completely apathetic towards these projects and with that apathy comes complete cooperation because they just want it done.

No, the nurses and admins tend to be the biggest obstacles. They see these implementations as “me” changing their jobs. As the vendor changing their lives – and they resist. They put up a fight and make things as difficult as possible. Those are the ones that need to be won over. And generally, I do win them over.

I guess that is why the vendor likes me on these jobs. Even if things go wrong, and sometimes things do go wrong, the customer never comes back to complain that I didn’t do a good job or wasn’t willing to go the extra mile.

That makes me feel better about what I do. I take pride in my work, I honestly do. Seems to be as rare a trait these days as… an on-time flight to Philadelphia.

As part of my “extra” services on this job, I’m installing two servers - one in production and one in a mirrored testing environment. The second one is actually a virtual server, and is running slower than… air traffic through Philadelphia?

Ok, I’ll stop beating that metaphor to death.

But it gives me a chance to get some of these thoughts down.

These are actually my thoughts. I’m trying to distract myself from other thoughts. This is the best I can come up with, but if I didn’t come up with this, I’d go crazy. Consumed with thoughts that would best go under the “Why? Why? Why?” header in my journal.

I wish I had answers to all the why’s I need to ask you. I need to know, I really do.

Yet, I know you might not even have the answers yourself.

The Chronicles of Etch

Another story of an adventure in traveling with Etch. These were always some of the most memorable times of my travels.

This one was originally written on July 1, 2007.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

My travels and my life are always filled with surprises, so I guess I can always look forward to the next day, the next surprise – you never know what life has in store for you.

A thunderstorm rolled into the Chicago area. Driving back to the airport was treacherous with blinding rain at times and winds causing vehicles to drift across lanes. I knew this meant trouble. My flight was in 3 hours but O’Hare is one of those airports where the slightest bit of weather creates complete chaos.

I arrived to the terminal and stepped up to the kiosk to get my boarding passes. Not to my surprise but to my displeasure the kiosk read back:

Your flight has been CANCELED. Please wait while we search for other available flights.

With a heavy sigh I waited. Our whole team was heading to the airport destined for other jobs after a two-day on-site training with the vendor so I knew others would be in the same predicament.

I called Etch – he was just arriving at the airport. I looked up his flight number and informed him his flight has a 1 hour delay, so he could take his time.

The kiosk found that the previous flight to Nashville had been put on a 3 hour delay and seats were available so it reticketed me to it. This was hopeful, but I knew this airport too well. That three hour delay was just the beginning for that flight.

I went through security – United’s services line was already over one hundred deep of customers trying to re-book canceled flights. Now having three hours to kill, or more, I leisurely headed towards the end of the terminal to find somewhere to have lunch. Then I spotted Dan and Jorge from our team. We compared our flight issues – everyone was on delay.

As usual, O’Hare was packed. The only restaurant in the terminal where seating could be had was a Chili’s. We grabbed a table and lunch was served. I called Etch back and let him know where we would be.

We had the typical “work” conversation. Jorge knows how to relax after a long day but Dan is young, and more introverted. Typical technician; very intelligent but at times not socially skilled. Etch joined us and the next two hours were killed with beer, food and a raucous crowd in the restaurant.

We could see Jorge’s airplane from the restaurant window so he left to board his flight as I continued to monitor my flight on my cell phone.

Delayed to 5:05.

Dan, decided to leave to see if he could find where his flight was going to board since a gate hadn’t been posted.

My flight was now posted at 5:59.

“I know it’s going to get canceled.” I commented to Etch.

“Dude, we’re going to be stuck here. This sucks. I wanted to knock off that job in Kokomo by eight and get back home to see Nikki.”

“Yeah, I feel so sorry for you, getting to go home and hang out with strippers.”

Etch laughed. “Lets go to our terminal and check on the flights.”

“Sure,” I replied, “now mine is posted at 6:55. It’s not going anywhere.”

We walked to the C concourse where both of our flights were supposed to take off from. As we crossed through the concourse, the departure board showed the flight to Nashville now pushed back to 6:55 was no longer my flight number. A quick check of my phone confirmed, the flight indeed canceled.

“Crap. This sucks.”

“Oh man, you’re going to have to stand in that line and re-book something for tomorrow.”

I looked at the line for United services, which was now curling 10 gates down the concourse from the queue.

“No way, I’m not standing in that. How far is Nashville to drive from here?”

He brought up a map on his laptop.

“Seven hours.”

I sighed and pondered my options.

“No, not standing in that line. I’m going to my gate, where the flight was supposed to be and I’m going to play dumb and see where I can get.”

“Good plan,” Etch agreed. We walked to the far end of the concourse for what was sure to be a fruitless venture.

I found a gate agent; she didn’t look happy to be dealing with anyone at the moment. Flights were dropping off the board as cancellations faster than they were taking off as the next storm could be seen rolling towards the airport in the distance.

“How are you?” I asked her as friendly as possible.

“Can I help you with something?” She curtly replied.

“Ah.. yeah.. what’s the story with the flights to Nashville? Anything going there tonight?’

“Nope, everything is canceled, the only flight still on the board is booked and standby is about 20 people right now.” She responded looking up information on her terminal.

“Hmm.. ok, anything to Louisville?”

“Filled.”

“Cinci?”

“Booked.”

“Lexington?”

“Booked.”

“Frankfurt?”

“Do they have an airport?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“Well, if they do we don’t fly there.”

“Memphis?”

“Nothing.”

“So you’re telling me there is nothing going into Kentucky or Tennessee tonight.”

“That’s about it.”

“So I’m screwed.”

“Pretty much, sorry.”

“It’s ok. Not your fault. I’ll figure something out. Thanks for all your help and time.” I turned away and walked back to Etch to tell him all the great news.

“I’ve got nothing dude. Looks like I’m driving.”

“Sucks man. Lets walk to my gate and see what’s what.”

We walked to the other end of the terminal to his gate. His flight was now posted with a five hour delay.

“Man,” he said as we walked, “I’m thinking about just seeing if I can get to Columbus where my car is and just go do this job tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Better off going home and spending the night with a stripper than dicking around with flights.”

“No doubt, you said it.”

We got to the gate. The situation was grim. Flight was delayed now until 9PM.

But as luck would have it, the gate right next to his flight, there was a flight to Columbus – and it was boarding.

“I’m going,” Etch said, “if they have seats, I’m going home.”

“Well, I’m not staying stuck here. If they have seats I’m going too!”

We approached the counter and Etch asked, “Any seats on this flight?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” Said the agent.

She returned from the plane and we handed her our boarding passes for our respective, originally scheduled flights. She took them and simply said, “Get your asses on the plane, it’s closing in one minute. Seats 7A and B, go.”

We grabbed our bags and ran down the jetway to the plane…

Columbus at least got me closer to where I needed to be. I knew this would turn out to be another one of those nights once we got to Dayton.

On the plane, we sat taxied on the runway for what felt like hours. They were letting passengers get up to use the restrooms. I managed to convince a lovely young flight attendant to provide Etch and I some pre-flight drinks. Once the flight took off, I managed to convince her to provide us more. It wasn't a long flight, but we had a few in us to get us through. Etch suggested rum and Sprite instead of a usual Jack & Coke. He was right, and my brief love-affair with rum began.

The drive to Dayton seemed longer than it was for that time of night. I was tired from the day and Avis gave me a brand new Mustang that just drove like... a Ford. It was a struggle to stay awake in it.

Talking to Etch as we drove in our respective vehicles, he invited me to stop at his Air Force base in Springfield. We got to the bar across the street so I could park my car. I changed clothes in the parking lot and we drove in Etch’s car onto the base.

Way… WAY cool. I’ve never been around military jets up close. Etch and his friend who was working late night maintenance showed me around the base and the maintenance hangar. I got to climb into several F-16’s in various states of repair. Some, nearly completely dismantled.

Etch took pictures of me by a couple of the planes, we thanked his friend for the tour and we headed to Dayton. Our destination – the strip club that Etch hangs out in. We drank, we hung out with strippers. I got to meet Etch’s favorite – a very pleasant young lady with… a.. very nice body. Nikki.

Etch sat talking to Nikki, she sat in front of him and he massaged her shoulders.

"I'm all knotted back there," she said.

"I can feel that. Don't worry, baby. I can get all of your knots out." Etch responded with a mischievous smirk.

"He can get all of your knots out," I chimed in, "and if you have your tubes tied, he can probably get those knots out, too."

They both laughed. Etch high fived me for that one.

I know he scored that night.

Around 1:00AM, I headed out of the club and started a drive to Louisville. Hours of driving on dark, rural interstates through a rain storm to get to the wrong destination, to do work without sleeping...

Who could ask for anything more?